Strings were played on the heart last eve, the voice on the phone made me really want to believe. Well practiced verses, hooks oiled and sharp, here comes the chorus, Come back to me, please. Like a ball on a playground, a bird that’s not free, listening attentively, weak at the knees. Being lulled and caressed, words cradle like hands, lyrics like syrup yet bad they command. Wait for the chorus, come back to me, Breathe. Knows when to pause, so subtle the clause, hook line and sinker, it’s the game he adores. Promises broken, heart remember you’re free, he’s good at what he does just remember to breathe. Wait for the chorus, Come back to me, please. You know all the old tunes you’ve heard them before, like lovers they lead you, scores up on the board. Their comfort deceiving, and it’s riddled with dread, this time, you’ll know where you’ll end instead. You laugh and you smile and pretend all is well, awake to the maestro, aware of his spell. Wait for the chorus and sing the right words, gently and quietly remember to breathe. Nearing the end of the words off by heart, you tell him he had you right from the start. You echo that you too, hate being apart. You give it your best shot to make him believe and wait for the chorus, just remember to breathe.